Sea’s in a building

phase. City wakes

to the sun or crane

in the mirror of its

former employ-

ment. Here’s

some fresh stone

blocking

traffic from the park.

We limber. Motorise

resistance and ride

out on a cryptic

breeze.

Morning

TV’s:/p>

hair-raising

investiture.

8:04 weather

charts.

Office

library-

quiet.

Hmmm.

Emotional

preferences for

illegible feedback.

Leave the

mysteries the

rabbit holes

to Keats.

A bell: catharsis

yet! or can’t wait and

expedite an afternoon.

Thought along a trail.

Day that’s been/to come

though notes are

no promises.

So volatile. Shelve

plans/scripts

for a lounge

and novel

on politics—

the generally bifocal

exercise of reading.

Loads of new term-

inologies for time-

less behaviours.

Beneath the perfect

lawns of land-held

Parliament House

Wanted senators

decline invitation

for the optics

of their place

in a crowd.

The most familiar

rooms are often

called spaces

and housebound

fifteenpage poems

are formidable acts

of concentration.

I draw mid-day

blinds on two

duplicate moons

weeknights

‘rest my eyes’

(all attention)

economising

as any device.

Somewhere in

the soundtrack’s

anonymous love

brief revival then—

scanning

for detail in a

high-speed credits scroll

where episodic means

continuous.